


Strategos

by taichara



Series: Blood and Fire [5]
Category: Saint Seiya
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-25 00:14:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2601521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taichara/pseuds/taichara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Lord of Poseidon's followers prepares to send the Marina into what may turn into open conflict with Athena's Saints before the War's appointed time.</p>
<p>But this Lord Seadragon is a planner, and sharp as ice ... and knows more of Sanctuary's rot than his fellows or his enemies may realize.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strategos

He hung suspended as if stilled mid-flight, silvery eyes half-lidded. All around him eddied the deep emerald-blue of the pure abyss; soaring around and above him, the pale graceful spires of his domain.

In sharp contrast to the vast ocean's depths he was; the rich bronze and golden-copper of his armor, white-pale flesh and long cascade of icicle-hair coiling around him in the gentle currents.

He made a lovely picture as he hung in silent contemplation, his only movements being of his smooth coiling mane and the never-ending spirals of sparkling icy drops which ebbed and flowed around him like a jeweled mantle.

_Such a fascinating design of conflict we have been drawn into._  
 _What shall be our opening position?_

_If we were to move against them now --without the Earth-Shaker reborn to us -- it would surely be folly._

His lip curled ever so slightly, and the frozen drops glittered.  
Never could he suffer fools; to act as one would be a bitter blow.

_And yet, to hold our hand is weakness._

_Athene's fallen chosen are fragmented, squabbling like the fool infants that they are. It would be wise to act before their Holy Father collects his power --_

_But we are the priests and warriors of our King and God; and this separates us from the brutes of Sanctuary._

It was an intricate manner of question; the search for the suitable solution, fascinating and yet faintly frustrating. He did not see the merit in committing himself too early, without their Sea-King present to claim his honor --

And yet to wait gave Sanctuary time enough to bolster its own power.

_Provided it does not eat itself alive. A pleasant prospect, as these things go._

His reverie was broken suddenly by a soft sea-change and a current of fey power.

He opened his eyes to level a cool gaze on the slender figure gliding in smooth arcs before him, delicate wings of his Scale spread and quivering gently, coral hair twisting in the currents his passage made.

_:: Scylla. ::_

_:: Yes, my Lord Seadragon. ::_

The periwinkle eyes glimmered with curiosity mixed with some excitement, and Seadragon gestured for him to speak.

_:: He was right! ::_

Scylla composed himself as his Lord cast him a chilly, scathing glance, and continued.

_:: Hippocamp was correct. ::_  
 _:: There are Athene's warriors where they have no right to be; on the islands belonging to Seawolf. ::_

In response to this report, Seadragon said nothing; but his eyes became silver ice, and the glistening droplets of ice that hung like a cloak grew sharp and multiplied. Scylla paused in his circling and backwinged, sketched a bow, and dove onward stubbornly.

_:: Two Saints only, my Lord, of the first of their ranks, and a handful of the untrained. They seem more like refugees than warriors, his Okeanids reported. And there are traces of strange black armors of their kind on the mainland shores. ::_  
 _:: He brings them to you now. ::_

Seadragon's expression flickered, a brief moment of puzzlement.

_Black armor?_  
 _There is no such rank amongst the saints of Athene ..._

_... Ai, Saga, you thrice-damned fool._  
 _You've pushed through with your rituals in your quest for glory, have you?_

_No matter._  
 _The dead can be dealt with as well as the living -- so long as they do not overrun us._

_This ... changes much._

_Well played, Holy Father._

The silvery Lord's gaze sharpened onto the fey figure waiting before him.

_:: Tell Hippocamp to cleanse the armors with blood and salt. ::_  
 _:: They are the damned. ::_

Scylla blinked, startled, and Seadragon smiled faintly.

_:: If they are turning on each other, so much the better. ::_  
 _:: Hippocamp must instruct Seawolf to watch -- ::_  
 _:: and only watch! -- ::_  
 _:: Until I instuct otherwise. These whelp-Saints may prove useful. ::_

Scylla nodded, and bowed his head, wings pulling close and stilling the currents.

_:: As you wish, my Lord. ::_

And then he was gone in a graceful swirl of coral and bronze. The Seadragon watched him go, and not for the first time doubted the youth had ever seen the land.

Once Scylla was well away, he returned to his contemplations.

_Yes, this changes much._  
 _I must send Siren to the surface; the Earth-Shaker must be called to his throne, and time is growing shorter than anticipated._

He paused in his thoughts, mulling over a bitter -- and yet intriguing -- possibility.

_... And, perhaps, we shall tender an accord to Death's dark stars._


End file.
